


Bet on Belts

by jenna_thorn



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>to the prompt: silly between scenes moments</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet on Belts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashfae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashfae/gifts).



Bull set his toe to his other heel and twirled. Bits of his clothing flared out to spin around him. “Hey, you can’t fool me, you know I look good.”

“What you perceive as appreciative awe is in fact stunned admiration for whoever cobbled together that get up.”

“Bet was, mage robes. So…mage robes.” Bull started to spread his arms in display, but paused at the creak of a seam stressed to yielding. 

“I just ... I…” Dorian gave up on words and put his hand to his chin. Behind him, Josephine’s quiet gasp was punctuation to his own thoughts. Krem didn’t bother to hide his laugh as he circling Bull, appraising.

“Would’ve been worth it," Bull said.

“You were never going to win that bet, Chief, never,” Krem said through his laughter.

Josephine asked, “Dare I ask?”

“You sure you want to know?”

Krem answered and Bull just grinned.

Maxwell threw open the door from Solas' chamber and stopped abruptly short of the chair Varric was leaning on. “Oh for the love of… . You actually did it.”

Bull raised one hand to wave, then dropped it, wincing, as the underarm seam parted with a flatulent noise. “Oops.”

“What could possibly…”

Bull cut him off. “If I’d won, Dorian’d be wearing the Avvar getup.”

“I respect Dorian’s abilities as a mage, an archivist, and a general curmudgeon, but I have no personal need to see him dressed in strips of fur with strategic body paint. Josephine, Leliana, I’ll meet you at the table.” Maxwell jogged off in his usual half run, but Leliana and Josephine tipped their heads together in silent communication. 

Cullen stepped through the bright doorway, blinked as his eyes adjusted from the sun-bright courtyard, then blinked again as he took in Dorian, his face in his palms, Varric and Krem, red-faced and leaning against one another as their giggles faded, and Bull, in plaidweave mage robes with slowly separating seams. 

Cullen stopped, shook his head, and said, “No, I’m not going to ask, because if I ask, one of you will tell me, so I am not asking. No.”

“Fair enough,” Leliana said, sliding her hand around Cullen’s elbow. He took the hint and extended his other arm to Josie, to escort the both of them the length of the hall. “But,” she called as they left,” next time perhaps let me know? I quite like fur!”


End file.
